


Souls Twined Tight

by Aondeug



Category: Chronicles of the Kencyrath - P. C. Hodgell
Genre: F/F, Poetry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-18
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2019-10-30 17:27:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17832929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aondeug/pseuds/Aondeug
Summary: They were a highly compatible match. An unskilled observer might think otherwise when looking at the Brandon matriarch and her sister-kin but they were a highly compatible match. One with a love that survived even Aerulan's assassination. Included within are a series of poems detailing the moments of that love. From their early days together to the time of their reunion. Through happy times and sad. Brenwyr and Aerulan have a love that can't be broken.





	1. Speechless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Femslash February 2019. The prompt was "Silent".

They would share words, they would,  
back when she still yet lived.  
Sometimes the words were spoken aloud  
but more often they were silent,  
stitched codes hidden in careful knotwork,  
the Craft of Women.  
  
On, and she was a brat about it too,  
that Knorth lady,  
and she’d leave the most scandalous notes  
quite in the open for all to see  
both Brenwyr and the others each.  
Occasionally there’d be a nervous cough  
and heads would turn away from them both.  
  
Aerulan never gloated,  
not openly  
as that wasn’t a lady’s custom  
not even for a Knorth,  
but Brenwyr could tell, she did,  
and it made her fume, it did,  
though she’d never say that aloud.  
  
She missed it too  
for years and years  
after that one night.  
  
So to think they’d share words again,  
that was an odd thing, and pleasant.  
The words were silent once more  
at least on Aerulan’s part  
being quite unable to speak without a mouth.  
Brenwyr, however, she made a point to speak  
quite intently so, she did,  
as she caressed the knotted patterns  
that painted her lover’s face on cloth.  
  
She was giddy, for once.  
The Iron Matriarch  
barely able to contain herself  
and Aerulan noted that, she could tell,  
and she frowned at the silent jab  
with neither confirmation nor denial  
if always, always truth.  
  
Brenwyr was though.  
Giddy like a girl  
barely in her youth  
and yet even though she spoke now  
with such intent  
she could not say this was so,  
not without the greatest shame.


	2. Unbearable

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Femslash February 2019. The prompt was "Waiting".

The hours seem long   
don’t they?  
 **They are.**  
It’s been decades now though,  
so what are a few more hours,  
 **(a few more days)**  
in the grand scheme of things.  
  
Not much.  
Shouldn’t we be grateful?  
  
 _But it’s been days.  
_  
Days, days  
 **days**  
hour after hour  
they’ve kept her, they’ve been keeping her they have  
for hours for days for weeks for months for years  
they’ve been keeping her they have they have  
when they’ve no right to it, no right to it  
 **No Right To It**  
But he is the Highlord isn’t he?  
He is, he is  
and you are but a lady, but a lady  
matriarch of Iron or no but a lady  
just a lady  
 **But he’s no right to it**  
to her to her no  
not even the Knorth boy  
the Knorth brat  
neither of them have the right no, not even a little  
not even, no, no, **NO  
**  
A day more is a fine time to wait  
for something few have the chance for  
in all their lives and never shall.  
Trinity knows that you haven’t until now.  
  
And that’s the rub, that’s problem.  
It is, it is, it is the problem of it of this  
and who does he think he is  
and what does he know what does he know?  
 **These are not his matters.**  
These are not.  
These are not.  
These are not.  
  
 _The Women’s World is a closed island  
full of inmates with no rights of their own  
who must dance at the delight of Lords._  
  
But that should not be, should not be  
Should.  
Not.  
No.  
It is yours,  
she is ours  
we knew her best, we did.  
The match was made, the matched had lasted   
  
**The Match Saved Us**  
  
It did.  
She did.  
  
 _Aerulan._  
  
Five hours is too long,  
five days is too long,  
five years is too long,  
five minutes is too long,  
five seconds is too long.  
  
Too. Long.  
For you. For us.  
For Aerulan, for her.  
  
 **Curse the boy, damn the boy.  
Sham of a man, shame of a Highlord.  
Rend him to shreds, to bits, to bits.  
Reveal his weakness, force him forward  
for keeping what is not his, for what he’s no right to.  
Rent asunder, body and soul,  
 _Do it._  
Make it so.  
**  
 _please_  
  
it’s been too long.  
  
too long  
  
Long.  
  
Too. Long.


	3. The weirdest of Knorth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Femslash February 2019. The prompt was "Safe".

It started out small  
as so many things do,  
a joke here, a prod there.  
You frowned as you are wont  
and you insisted again  
silently in gesture  
that she cut it out.  
Now.  
A jester is one thing,  
being an irritant is quite another.  
  
Of course she didn't listen,  
for out of all the Knorth traits  
the only one she had?  
It's the stubbornness,  
that unyielding will.  
  
So what started out small  
grew larger and larger yet.  
One more poke, one more jab  
and they piled up, up  
though she didn't think of that:  
she was having fun.  
  
You smiled awkwardly  
before you turned to your stitches  
focusing on just those movements.  
Poke through the fabric,  
pull back up  
working towards a larger message,  
a personal one  
for her.  
You turned to your exercises too.  
Breathe,  
think,  
count.  
Just like you'd been taught.  
Just so.  
  
Aerulan never bowed though.  
She was having her fun  
and she just couldn't see it,  
what was boiling up inside  
because she was having her fun  
and you were keeping quiet  
until at last it grew too much.  
  
The mountain was stacked too high  
and as she pointed at your stitches  
and as she said something she shouldn't have  
and as she grinned at you wide  
while all the room stopped and stared,  
some turning red and others muttering,  
it toppled over.  
  
Sharp.  
Fast.  
  
Your breaths were gone.  
Your counting was gone.  
You thinking was gone.  
The control was gone.  
  
Not gone enough that you threw your stitches  
or even grabbed at your skirts  
or stood up in a huff and dashed off.  
It was gone though, it was,  
enough so that you spoke up  
loud,  
fierce  
with a grave intonation.  
  
You wished her dead,  
just so she'd shut up for once.  
You wished her dead.  
  
It was just a moment,  
only a moment,  
but that was all it took.  
There was a gasp, and another.  
The teacher stood up,  
and the younger girls shrank.  
Someone coughed  
while the elder girls gestured  
and Aerulan?  
  
She finally shut up.  
  
She finally shut up  
and you remembered that night  
on the stairs  
when a few stray words  
and one stray tantrum  
brought everything to an end,  
all of it  
and started all this,  
all of that, all of this  
and there'd be more.  
There would, there would  
because Aerulan finally shut up.  
  
You stood up quick  
keeping a tight hold on your knots  
as you rushed out the room  
polite as you could manage  
while voices whispered on behind you.  
  
What hers were,  
if she had them,  
you didn't hear  
and you'll never ask.  
Never.  
  
You'd be scolded for leaving,  
you knew that.  
You'd be scolded for hiding too,  
but you needed to steal away,  
just for a moment,  
perhaps longer,  
because you'd gone and done it  
to the one person you wanted not to  
most of all  
in all this world  
you had.  
  
And Aerulan?  
She wasn't like most Knorths.  
Not in temperament  
nor in power,  
not at all  
and you'd gone and done it.  
  
If your mother had fallen.  
  
If she had.  
  
Then.  
  
Then you were wordless  
as you huddled up alone  
under the stairs  
as you tried to push it away  
all of it  
and you tried to take it back  
all of it  
even though you couldn't.  
You knew how this worked.  
You knew what had been done.  
You were certain.  
  
So hearing her voice,  
that almost killed you on the spot  
and you wanted to shout her down  
though that's what you got you here at all.  
You turned around even  
lifting your head from your knees  
intending to tell her off.  
To tell her to leave, to run,  
to go tell Adiraina if she must;  
which she should given the outburst  
and given the stairs.  
Given you.  
  
Her smile stopped your voice.  
  
You burst into tears instead  
and curled up once again,  
a rambling wreck of a girl  
who apologized again and again  
for what you'd done,  
for what would come,  
for it all, all of it  
and she didn't scold you  
or talk of seeing Adiraina  
or anything of the sort at all.  
  
No,  
she just said that she was there.  
See?  
Maybe her fingers tingled a bit,  
but she was still there  
and that was it.  
She was still there,  
that's what she said.  
  
That wasn't enough.  
You couldn't accept that as true  
and you shook your head  
and you argued   
and you yelled  
and you swore again and again what you knew.  
Any other would have left,  
either from fear of you  
or irritation with you,  
but she stayed right there  
and she said it again:  
she was there.  
She was  
and nothing happened.  
Nothing was going to happen.  
She was sure of that  
and you couldn't get how.  
  
You couldn't understand the smile  
or the hand on your shoulder  
or the apology she gave you  
or how she insisted that she was here to stay,  
that no little curse would stop her,  
it just couldn't.  
  
For a moment  
you believed her  
but you couldn't understand her.  
  
Not her patience,  
not her kindness,  
not her anything.  
  
You hugged her all the same.  
Tight,  
desperate.  
You believed her you did,  
but you couldn't understand her,  
you didn't understand her.  
  
And her arms wrapped around you  
made you believe her all the more  
and cry all the more  
and you just couldn't get it  
as you clung to her  
frightful that she'd drop dead  
right in your arms.  
  
But you believed her.  
You did, you did, you did.  
  
A curse couldn't bring her down.  
What could hope to?  
She was Aerulan,  
the Knorth like the sun  
that smiled bright  
and loved like no one else could.  
Matriarchs couldn't break her,  
or your cruel tutors  
or the stupid girls your age,  
nothing and no one could  
so how could you?  
  
How?  
  
You couldn't.  
It was as simple as that.


	4. A Fake Twin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Femslash February 2019. The prompt was "Hate".

Her is almost the same.  
She has the high cheekbones,  
the narrow, sharp face,  
that distinct Knorth nose  
and those eyes too, of course.  
Large, wide, silver...  
almost otherworldly, wholly unnerving.  
Her build is similar too.  
She's of a decent height for a woman  
but she's dwarfed by Kendar  
and she's thin as a reed  
with barely any chest at all.  
And there's her hair too,  
that thick mass of black  
that seems to swallow the world  
and which would look so lovely  
if she'd any idea how to care for it.  
You'd think her Aerulan herself,  
just by looking at her  
especially when she's wearing her dresses,  
but for everything else about her.  
  
She's a stupid girl, really,  
stupider even than the Lackwit.  
She doesn't know basic manners   
taught before a girl can _talk_  
and she's no care for the secrets,  
babbling off what's not hers to share,  
seemingly oblivious to the insult.  
Then there's her mood.  
She burns fiercely, quietly  
and there's a moroseness to her  
and you don't think she could laugh,  
not as easily as Aerulan could.  
She lacks that easy joy, the kindness,  
reflecting back too much of yourself.  
And then there's her will.  
They would both fight with you  
and they both have  
but there's none of the gentle care  
or the fine attention to detail  
and she won't come to you in the night  
to listen and let you speak in the calm,  
not that you would want her to.  
They both turned heads  
and they refused to bow  
but she lacks what really counts.  
She has her face and her hair  
and she wears her dresses too  
but she lacks what really counts.  
You'd think her Aerulan herself  
were it not for everything else about her.  
  
And you've never hated anyone more.


	5. Freedom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Femslash February 2019. The prompt was "Wings".

  
Nailed to a post for years  
is what death felt like.  
You could walk around your soul,  
creeping into well known halls  
and resting in a well loved bed  
but you were nailed to this post,  
to a wall, rather,  
from which you could look out   
and see  
nothing.  
  
Nothing and no one at all.  
  
None came to visit you after a time  
and you could feel her leaving too.  
The one anchor to the world you had  
had flown off and grown faint  
and no matter how you banged  
or how loud you shouted  
she was gone.  
Not forever, no,  
as she'd travel back at times  
but even then the pull was faint  
and she never visited you.  
  
And even if she had?  
Could she see you?  
Would she?  
  
Stationary as stone  
more a prisoner than before,  
you waited and waited  
for a sign, just one,  
of life, of love, of anything at all  
and for years it didn't come  
until at last it did  
when time seemed to stretch  
into an uncountable abyss.  
At last life had come,  
a pair of hands to pull you back out.  
  
But it wasn't her.  
  
It was a new girl,  
a Knorth girl.  
  
By Trinity you'd done it, you had.  
There were Knorths still,  
Knorth women at that.  
Your death had not been in vain.  
  
But it wasn't her  
and this Knorth was morose,  
clouded up by ten tons of guilt  
which might not all be hers  
so you thought as you looked.  
But she was not her.  
  
She did bring you to her though  
and what a reunion it was.  
You'd think the fury swallowed you,  
shaking your soul to bits  
and you were swallowed up  
your banner  
into hungry, jealous arms  
that'd never let you go, ever again.  
Those familiar, strong arms  
they held you close and safe  
and for a moment you felt you could fly.  
No longer nailed to a post  
you could go wherever you wished  
born by the winds under your wings  
so long as those arms held you.  
  
Yet as sudden as they'd sprouted  
they were ripped away,  
right off your back  
and right back to your wall  
is where you were sent  
with only a glimmer of her  
off, off into the distance once more.  
  
She was far from your halls  
and your wall.  
  
It lasted a day,  
then ten, then twelve.   
A month passed, you counted it,  
until at last the days stretched too far  
and too thin  
and your counting went right with.  
  
Your bed was there,  
a perfect copy within your soul  
but it was empty, you knew.  
More so now that you'd seen her,  
the one you shared it with.  
  
They said you smiled brighter than any other.  
If only they could see you now.  
  
Wingless.  
  
Wingless and born into the hands of another,  
a Knorth just like the girl before, yet not.  
He was cloudier even than her  
and deep, deep within him  
you could see a glance, just a hint,  
of a little Ganth  
grown darker than ever before.  
You were no longer on your post  
but you were wrested away as they wished.  
  
Almost a package, you'd think.  
The duty of women!  
Funny that,   
even in death you couldn't escape it.  
  
But you were not taken away  
off to strange hills and stranger halls  
No, those Knorth hands bore you closer  
step by step to a familiar flame  
which seemed ready to burn the world  
and though you couldn't move  
save only in your soul  
you'd think you could dance again.  
  
Should they permit you to have this.  
  
It started out small, distant,  
a seeming pinprick of rage  
but it grew and it grew  
with every step your Knorth hands took  
until at last the fury engulfed all  
and came storming out a gate  
burning brighter than ever before.  
  
You'd seen her rage.  
Many times, sometimes at you,  
but never like this.  
  
You worried your family would die  
but he pulled on through.  
  
Knorth blood is stubborn.  
  
Stubborn Knorth hands held you still  
though your wrestled as you could  
caught within your folds,  
for she was right there.  
You could see her, hear her,  
_feel her_  
and at last and again she took you  
and held you tight  
and you could see another flame  
that burned behind the fury.  
One that was warm, sweet,  
comforting.  
  
The very reason you loved her above all others.  
  
You were bundled up in that  
all at once  
and you did your best to do the same,  
spreading your wings wide  
and wrapping them about her  
to hide her from the world  
which bit at her so.  
  
Partly this was for the boy,  
but mostly it was for love of her.  
  
She stole you away quick  
stomping off into her halls  
barely able to contain herself  
and you not at all,  
were it not for your form,  
and she stole you away quick  
to an unfamiliar room  
that rang of her, her, _just her_  
which seemed more familiar than even your own,  
and she stole you away quick  
holding you close to her chest  
as she sobbed heavy and hard   
at last, at last,  
now that she was out of sight.  
  
You'd wipe those tears for her face.  
Soon.  
  
You would.


	6. Gold's a bit dull

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Femslash February 2019. The prompt was "Gold".

Gold's a flashy metal  
and there's more than one girl like it.  
You pass by them every day  
and you see them in your classes.  
Resplendent, brilliant,  
a sight for all to see  
hidden behind those little masks.  
  
You find you prefer iron, though.  
  
It doesn't gleam so  
and you can't shape it so fine.  
The metal's more for weapons.  
It's cold, hard,  
and it bites through flesh,  
cuts through souls.  
Some weapons are more ornate,  
but those are just for show,  
so you think.  
The sort your Kendar wear?  
They're more like her.  
Dependable, harsh, weatherworn,  
with a bite to match her bark.  
  
A girl once hassled you after lessons,  
poking fun at your dress and your hair  
until she came in  
rushing the girl down like a randon.  
The whole room seemed to shake,  
and honestly it might have.  
And the girl?  
She shrank back like a mouse  
before scurrying off  
with her cronies in tow.  
You could have fought yourself  
and you were in your own way,  
but when you saw her standing there  
nostrils flared and soul all in a huff  
you realized why you prize iron over gold.


	7. Her Whole World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Femslash February 2019. The prompt was "Blessed".

She could almost walk on air,  
she could,  
dancing with delight at the day.  
Oh, she'd fought  
because that is her way,  
always and ever,  
and who could believe it anyway?  
Who?  
She'd been handily beaten though,  
hugged and set down  
and he laid it all out,  
the plan!  
They'd pay a hefty price,  
one perhaps too high,  
and the battle would be long,  
perhaps too long for her  
but for once,  
just once,  
it seemed everything would turn out.  
No one being shuffled off,  
no one falling down the stairs,  
no one and nothing no how ruining it.  
It would just be her,  
it would just be them,  
forever and more it would, it would.  
To tell Aerulan...  
to hide it as a secret...  
(but not as a lie)  
both were tempting options,   
both would mean the world  
because this?  
This was the world, her world,  
and for once it was spinning,  
just right, just so.


	8. Comes Crashing Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Femslash February 2019. The prompt was "Split". This is a sister piece to Her Whole World.

It all started with that girl,  
her cousin, Tieri.  
How much time had she spent with her now  
and how much with you  
in comparison?  
Perhaps that's not what you meant to ask.  
No, perhaps what you meant to ask,  
perhaps,  
was if the two of you could talk.  
Just bring up the matter  
and spend some time together.  
You had something more reasonable in mind.  
  
She says she'd need to see Tieri tonight,  
there's something special going on  
that needs to be tended to  
and she was quite sorry,  
so, so sorry  
but really it needs doing tonight.  
  
You meant to ask,  
you had,  
really,  
to give her time,  
a chance,  
just to talk,  
just to explain,  
just to talk it out  
but she's got somewhere to be  
with Tieri,  
always with Tieri.  
  
Why Tieri?  
Well?  
Are you two not sisterkin?  
That is the arrangement, no?  
That's what the Matriarchs planned,  
that's what you were put into,  
what you'd grown into,  
what you'd come to know and love  
and then there's this other girl.  
Tieri.  
Of course it's Tieri, of course.  
It's Tieri because it always is now.  
Is this her sisterkin now?  
Because it's certainly looking like it!  
  
And she can't even take one day  
one moment, one night  
to not bring up that girl  
and run off with that girl  
and fawn over that girl  
and replace you with that girl.  
  
She laughs!  
Because of course she laughs!  
She always does.   
Just laughs them off,  
any concerns you have, any upsets.  
Silly Brenwyr with her silly concerns  
and her silly, silly feelings!  
What's not to laugh at, really?  
Are you really that hilarious,  
so much of a joke  
that you're mocked even in your own room?  
  
You yell.  
At her, at Tieri, at this whole mess.  
How could she, how could she?  
Just again and again  
always with Tieri, always with laughing,  
always, always  
and she doesn't even challenge it  
because she never, ever does,  
never at all in all her life  
because she can't give you the decency  
of taking your seriously for five seconds  
so why now? Why would she?  
  
Of course she won't, of course, of course,  
so you yell at her the more  
hoping to force her to fight,  
so that just this once  
she'll actually take you seriously  
and actually respond in kind  
or at the very least hold you down.  
Brant would, he would,  
he always does,  
that's why you love him, you do.  
He's a good brother  
who picks you up and holds you  
and sets you down and tells you  
and he doesn't let you run rampant,  
he doesn't, he won't, never,  
because he knows, he understands  
but her?  
No, no, of course not.  
That'd require her to have a Knorth bone,  
so she'll just sit there  
and let you do as you please  
and then she'll run off with Tieri  
to do Trinity knows what  
with a girl that isn't even her sisterkin,  
not at all, not at all  
and you'll just laugh this off,  
you will,  
days later you'll both laugh  
and it won't mean anything,  
not a single thing,  
not at all, not at all.  
  
And she won't make you stop.  
  
You'll kill her  
at this rate.  
  
Fear runs through you  
that tempers the frustration.  
No, no it taints it  
making it run silver  
and bitter, cold, cold, cold,  
so you leave.  
You storm off with a last word  
only to hear her laugh  
because of course she does.  
Laugh, laugh, laugh it up.  
Of course!  
That's the thing to do here.  
Not run after you,  
not tell you off for slamming the door,  
no, nothing of the sort, nothing at all,  
and she's just going to run off with Tieri,  
because of course she is.  
  
Another girl sees you as you pass  
and her friend whispers  
so you stare her down  
until they quake and scurry off.  
Let them talk,  
let them all talk   
and she certainly will.  
You though?  
You've got the good sense to leave, to hide,  
to wait this out  
and maybe  
maybe she'll apologize.  
Maybe.  
  
Hours pass.  
Slowly.  
You've not heard from her  
or from anyone else.  
Not even Adiraina.  
The hours pass  
and they pass slowly.  
  
You were certain  
that she'd apologize  
or at least come and check  
after that whole thing.  
You rarely get this bad now,  
rarely,  
so shouldn't it sink in  
that it's important,  
serious,  
important  
like when Brant grabs you  
or Adiraina   
or anyone sensible?  
It should.  
  
Surely Tieri can wait.  
You're sisterkin!  
You share her bed!  
  
But the hours pass  
and they pass slow  
and you've not heard from her,  
not at all,  
not even from another,  
not even a messenger  
or an angry tutor,  
no one at all.  
  
Is Tieri really that much more important?  
  
She doesn't share her bed like you do,   
she doesn't talk with her like you do,  
she doesn't understand her like you do  
or help her through her moods  
when she has them, no,  
she's just Tieri! Just Tieri!  
  
And she'd rather off with her  
even as the hours pass  
and even after that show  
and even after you left.  
  
The hours pass and you hear her   
at last,  
you think,  
on the winds that whistle.  
  
But why don't you see her?  
Why don't you feel her?  
Why does she call from afar?  
You pay her no mind.  
  
If she can't be decent and apologize,   
and in person no less,  
then she gets no decency back.  
Why should she?  
Especially with how she's crying.  
Oh Brenwyr, help me, help me!  
Please come help, Brenwyr!  
And with all the screeching, Trinity, that.  
Does she think you an idiot?  
Yes, let's just play a prank!  
We don't need to apologize to you!  
No one ever does!  
You're the unreasonable one, always,   
so who even needs to come down  
and say sorry  
and talk it out  
or do anything at all!  
Not her, no! Not anyone!  
  
You snort and turn to your stitches,  
praying for her to shut up for once  
and quit with her games  
just for once.  
  
The joke's grown old  
but she keeps at it  
with cry after cry, pleading,  
and distracting you.  
You've knots to stitch,  
you've no time for her jokes  
and you wish for her to shut up  
just for once,  
that's all you want,  
or at least a sorry  
and she won't give you either  
as she the winds rage and rage  
whistling insistently,  
shaking the window  
and you've grown tired of them too  
so you thrown down your stitches  
and you rear up at the wind  
and you tell him to shut up  
and please, if you could, tell her too.  
  
But she won't.  
  
She won't stop.  
  
She won't stop screaming.  
  
She won't stop screaming and she's upended something.  
  
She never does.  
Never, ever.  
Not matter if she's mad,  
no matter if she's sad,  
she never does that,  
never, ever.  
That's you,  
you're the one who does that  
and now it's her doing it.  
What it was you don't know.  
A table, a chair, you don't know  
but you do know, you do,  
that she's never thrown something.  
Never in anger, never.  
  
The wind, he throws open the window  
and you begin to sprint.  
  
She's never done that,  
never,  
and she's never cried like this,  
never,  
not even as a joke  
and you've been ignoring her  
you have,  
because you've been a bull  
you have.  
  
You run past a lady  
who asks you to stop  
and compose yourself,  
I mean really,  
but you pay her no mind  
because she's stopped shouting  
and you don't know why,  
because she's finally shut up  
and you don't know why,  
you don't.  
  
You don't until you throw open the door,  
until you look into the room,  
until you see the disarray,  
until you hear the gurgles.  
  
You don't until you run to her side,  
until you scream out her name,  
until you see the red at her neck,  
until you see her grasping at air.  
  
There's nothing.  
There's nothing.  
No healers, no bandages, no training.  
There's nothing.  
There's nothing.  
No killer, no weapon, no explanation.  
There's just her on the floor  
and you picking her up  
and you shouting for help  
and you cradling her body  
and her grabbing at your arm.  
  
The grasp's weak,  
her words can't come up  
though she's trying,  
she is,  
and you can't read it  
but you tell her to stop it,  
to keep quiet  
because that might help,  
that might slow the bleeding,  
you don't know,  
you don't know, you do know  
how her chest is seizing,  
how she's struggling to breath,  
how her grip's growing weak,  
how she can't hold up her head,  
you do know what that means.  
  
You've seen it before.  
Not with a slit throat,  
but you've seen it before  
with a paralyzed chest.  
  
No one comes,  
not fast enough  
and soon no breathes come  
none at all.  
  
Her grip is loose,  
her grip is failing,  
her grip is gone,  
but yours is tight.  
  
The tears are there  
just like before  
and you mutter over and over  
how you take it back, you do, you do  
  
But you can't.


	9. She's helpful, she is

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Femslash February 2019. The prompt was "Blue".

Contrary to popular belief  
you aren't always happy.  
You've your blue moments too  
and on those days  
you thank the Matriarchs  
for pairing you up with her  
because she's so often moody  
and she gets it in a way you don't.  
So when you're feeling blue  
she comes right over to you  
and pulls you close,  
literally or otherwise,  
and she helps you through it  
because contrary to popular belief  
she's quite in control  
in ways that you aren't.


	10. Chapter 10

Tishooo rushes past  
My love’s form has fallen cold–  
Death from rage’s heat.


End file.
